


a song of bravery

by goldenretrievers46



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Battle Scenes, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Book/Movie: Prince Caspian, Crossover, Draco and Edmund have philosophical discussions, Fluff and Angst, Gen, lots of teenage anxiety, parallels between lucius malfoy and miraz, suspian, the vanishing Cabinet is the wardrobe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-01-27 14:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21394036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenretrievers46/pseuds/goldenretrievers46
Summary: Draco Malfoy is in his sixth year at Hogwarts, stressed and anxious over his task from Voldemort. However, what happens when he steps into the Vanishing Cabinet and ends up in Narnia?Or; Draco goes to Narnia during the timeline of Prince Caspian, befriends the Pevensies, and maybe learns a few things along the way
Relationships: Caspian/Susan Pevensie, Draco Malfoy & Edmund Pevensie
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, fellow readers! I’ve been chewing on this story idea for awhile, and I’m sure it’s been done somewhere else before, but I couldn’t not do this crossover! I sincerely hope you enjoy :)

“Professor Dumbledore, sir?” said a rich voice from across the study.

“Yes, Professor Diggory?” Dumbledore responded, turning to address the man identified as Diggory with a curious gaze. 

“I have a matter which I wish to discuss with you. Or rather, a favour to ask of you,” Professor Diggory stated matter-of-factly. 

“Yes, please, come and sit down,” Dumbledore replied, motioning to a pair of brown leather chairs in the corner of his office. 

The year was 1948. 

“What is it you wish to discuss, Diggory?” Dumbledore was asking now, as he adjusted his glasses and looked the other wizard in the eye. 

“As you may know, my country home has been ransacked, and my poor Muggle housekeeper, Mrs. Macready, was killed in the assault. I’ve recovered what I can from the house, and most of what I’ve found is of no importance, but there is... one thing I cannot bear to be destroyed. The safest place for it would be Hogwarts, so I was wondering if you could help me figure out a way to store it here.”

And Professor Diggory relaxed back into his chair with a sigh. 

Dumbledore looked at Diggory, intrigued. “What is this object, Diggory?”

“It is the most extraordinary magical artefact I own. A wardrobe, to be exact,” Professor Diggory said.

A misty look had appeared in the old Professor’s eyes, and Dumbledore gazed at him curiously.   
“A wardrobe?” he wondered. 

“Yes, a wardrobe. Albus, do I have your confidence?” Diggory asked in a grave tone. 

“Always.”

“I am going to tell you why this wardrobe is so special, and in some ways, so dangerous. When I was a boy, my Uncle Andrew, who was a Squib, worked on many magical experiments in his upstairs study. My mother was ill, my father was away, and no one had bothered to tell me anything about magic or Hogwarts until I got my letter. At any rate, the summer before I got my letter, I made friends with a girl who lived next door, and my foolish uncle decided to use both of us as his guinea pigs. He tricked her into trying on one of his rings, an experiment which he’d been working on for some time, and she disappeared into thin air. Then he blackmailed me into going after her. Both of us appeared in this void, with all these pools. We named it the Wood Between the Worlds, because that is what it was. Albus, there were different universes, all over the place, and you could get to them by jumping into the pools. It’s a very long story, but we ended up in a world that hadn’t been made yet, and we watched its creation. Aslan, who created the world called Narnia and ruled over it, allowed me to take back an healing apple to give to my mother who, as I mentioned, was dying. She ate it, and was healed, and then I buried the core in the backyard, and it grew into a tree, which eventually blew over in a storm about 20 years ago. I couldn’t bear to have it chopped up, so I had them make it into a wardrobe. I put it in an upstairs room in my country estate, and didn’t think much more of it until World War II,” the old Professor recounted.

“Diggory, this is fascinating. I can’t say it surprises me much, but that is truly amazing. That wardrobe is made of wood from another universe?” Dumbledore was astonished. 

“Yes, Albus. I didn’t think it had any significant magical powers, but during the Muggle war, I offered my home to children fleeing the crisis. That’s when the Pevensie children came to stay. I’m sure you remember my mentioning them?” 

“Come to think of it, yes. Were there four?”

“Yes. Their names were Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy. Peter was a handsome young lad of 16, the man of the house, as his father was fighting the war. Susan was the sensible older sister, she had to have been 14, nearly 15. Edmund was the most sullen boy I had ever met, at the age of 13. And sweet little Lucy was 10 years of age, playful and imaginative. They were a sorry looking bunch, missing their home and family and trying to make the best of their situation. But apparently, Lucy discovered the wardrobe one day, and decided to have a look inside. And she found Narnia! I was elated! Peter and Susan came to me one evening, worried about both Edmund and Lucy. Lucy wouldn’t give up her story of meeting a faun inside the wardrobe, and Edmund wouldn’t stop bullying her for it. They were obviously quite shocked by the idea of magic and other worlds.

“Then one day, they all ended up in the wardrobe, and they all tumbled out, changed forever. In speaking with them later, I found out that they’d been in Narnia for nearly 20 years, and had grown into adults, and had ruled as Kings and Queens of Narnia, but that’s the strange thing about it. When one is in Narnia, they can be there for years, and when they come back to Earth, it has taken no time at all. At any rate, the wardrobe is a profound and special object, but I don’t want anyone to know it exists. It is too easy to abuse its power. That is why I am asking you to protect it, Albus.”

Dumbledore seemed to understand the weight of this request, for Professor Diggory was right: the wardrobe had extraordinary power which could be easily abused. 

“Then this is what you must do, Diggory. Go to the seventh floor, and stand in the corridor in front of the blank wall. Then, think of what you need- a place to hide something. A door will appear, and no one will ever be able to find the wardrobe inside that room except for you,” Dumbledore advised. 

It was Diggory’s turn to look intrigued, but the Arithmancy professor said nothing to the Transfiguration professor as he exited his colleague’s study, other than “Good day, Albus”. 

The wardrobe was moved the following day. 

Professor Dumbledore and Professor Diggory had many more conversations over the next year regarding Narnia, until Diggory’s untimely death, along with Peter, Edmund, and Lucy Pevensie, Polly Plummer, Eustace Scrubb, and Jill Pole, in a fatal train crash in 1949. Upon hearing this news, Dumbledore guessed, correctly, that Diggory had been trying to return to Narnia. However, he paid no more mind to the old, deteriorating wardrobe in the Room of Hidden Things for nearly fifty years.


	2. Chapter 1

Forty-nine years later

Draco Malfoy was tired. There was really no other word for it, he supposed. Exhaustion had overtaken him over the last few weeks, causing large bags to form under his eyes and his skin to pale until it looked like snow. Unfortunately, Draco Malfoy didn’t have any time to rest, either. His life had changed drastically over the past year, and it had all started when his father had been thrown in Azkaban. In what seemed like overnight, Draco had gone from being an expendable schoolboy to becoming a full-fledged Death Eater with privileges and responsibilities. Even now, as he gazed down toward his left arm and admired the grotesque skull imprinted there around which a slithering snake curled, he felt a tremendous sense of pride. He had been chosen. Out of everyone else, him! At the same time, however, the Dark Lord had given him a task to which there was (conveniently) no instruction manual. Admittedly, it was not an easy task: to assassinate Dumbledore and to infiltrate Hogwarts with Death Eaters. This was the source of Draco’s sleep deprivation and frustration. 

Despite his initial happiness with becoming a Death Eater, something was now eating at Draco. He didn’t know what it was, and had never identified anything like it previously, but it had all begun a few weeks earlier with a panic attack, a fight, and one little spell: Sectumsempra. When Potter had cast that spell at him, Draco hadn’t known what had hit him. One moment, he was full of anger and rage at Harry- after all, this was the boy who’d gotten his father imprisoned, and the next, he was lying on the cold, wet, hard bathroom floor, watching his own blood pool around him in swirls and gasping for air. As he laid there, a million thoughts had raced through his head. He was too young to die. Potter couldn’t have meant to kill him, because he was too righteous for that. He still hadn’t mended the Vanishing Cabinet. Would anyone miss him? He hadn’t had a chance to speak with his father since his imprisonment. He wished that dratted ghost would shut her mouth. Why did Potter look so bloody sorry? Didn’t he know what the spell did? Draco hadn’t ever done anything important with his life. He would die in vain. He never would achieve his goal of killing Dumbledore. Because he himself had been murdered. Was this what it felt like to be murdered? To know that someone hated you enough to end your life? Did Potter hate him so much? Did Draco himself hate Dumbledore enough to kill him? He supposed it didn’t matter now, as he would be the one dead... was that Snape? It had to be Snape. Then, all was black. 

In some ways, Draco almost found it unfortunate that he had awoken, alive and breathing, in the hospital wing the next morning. It wasn’t as if he was suicidal or anything, but upon remembering his unfinished business, Draco had felt a sense of dread pool in his stomach, for the thoughts and questions of the previous day were still flying around his head. Did he really hate Dumbledore enough to kill him? He supposed he didn’t really have a choice if he wanted to keep himself and his family alive, but something inside of Draco, an inconveniently awakened conscience perhaps, was now questioning whether or not murdering Dumbledore was the right thing to do. Nevertheless, Draco was released from the hospital wing a few days later and somehow found within himself the vigour to continue his mission of mending the Vanishing Cabinet. 

Draco stood in the Room of Hidden Things, staring at the Cabinet which had been the pain in his ass for the past few months. Over that time span, he had tested both an apple and a bird, and neither of them had come back unscathed. However, he now held another green apple in his hand, ready to try the Cabinet again. Draco had a good feeling about it. He didn’t really have a tangible reason to, but he supposed that it would have to work soon or him and his family would be at the mercy of the Dark Lord. Pushing the doubts and thoughts of failure away, Draco opened the door to the Cabinet, peering inside. The hinges gave a shuddering creak, and a faint smell, which reminded Draco of mothballs, wafted out. He cringed at the scent. After placing the delicious-looking apple inside, he gently shut the door. 

“Harmonia Nectere Passus,” he whispered. 

Draco could hear the faint crack of the apple disappearing, so he repeated the spell again, which would ensure the apple’s reappearance. Once again, he heard a faint crack. Hoping with every bone of his body that it had finally worked, he opened the door with haste and peered inside. The Cabinet was as musty as ever, and spiders seemed to crowd every inch, but Draco didn’t care. The apple had returned unharmed! He let out a celebratory whoop. It was the first of them that had, which meant that the Cabinet was repaired. Or was it? Maybe the Cabinet could handle small objects, but could it handle an entire gang of Death Eaters? Draco decided that he would have to find some guinea pigs. He wouldn’t be the first person to use it, of course, for he was far too valuable to be essentially splinched by a slightly sentient piece of furniture, but he did have friends, ones who would do anything Draco asked them to. With this idea in mind, Draco left the Room of Requirement. A bit of cockiness had returned to his step. 

“Goyle, just do it! Do you really think I’d want you trying out this Cabinet if it wasn’t safe?” Draco snapped. 

His temper had been short all morning, he knew that, but time was running out. The school year was almost over, and the Dark Lord had recently inquired about the mission. To Draco’s horror, he had not been pleased with Draco’s lack of success, and threatened him again with death for both him and his mother. A chill ran down his spine just thinking about it. 

“Alright, Alright!” Goyle said with a hint of exasperation as he stepped into the Cabinet. 

“Thanks,” muttered Draco begrudgingly. “Harmonia Nectere Passus.”

A larger crack resounded as Goyle disappeared, presumably out of the Cabinet. Draco decided to wait a couple moments before saying the spell again. 

“Harmonia Nectere Passus,” he uttered for what felt like the umpteenth time. 

Goyle returned like a thunderclap, stumbling out of the Cabinet and wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“Ugh, I feel like I’m going to be sick,” Goyle moaned. 

“Never mind that,” Draco said dismissively. “You came back in one piece. That’s all I needed, Goyle. You should go.” 

Goyle looked like a puppy who’d just been refused a treat. 

“Can’t you tell me what you’re planning to do for the Dark Lord?”

Draco felt a red-hot anger sear through his stomach. He purposefully had not told Crabbe or Goyle about why he was mending the Cabinet or who he was trying to kill, but that didn’t stop them asking over and over and over again. 

“NO! Mind your own damn business, Goyle, and quit asking me that,” Draco barked.

“Okay, okay,” Goyle recoiled, raising his hands in the air. “You don’t need to bite my head off.” 

“Just get out,” Draco said, a scowl etched across his face.

Goyle strode towards the door and slammed it behind him, sending dust swirling around the room. 

“Alone at last,” Draco muttered. 

Despite Goyle’s pesky questioning, everything had gone extremely well! The Cabinet hadn’t maimed, killed, or seriously injured Goyle in any way, which meant that Draco could owl the Dark Lord with the good news: Death Eaters could finally infiltrate Hogwarts. It was what he had worked an entire school year to achieve, and now it was done! He had finally succeeded in his mission, and he finally had good news to send home. Despite all this, the pride and accomplishment he should have felt didn’t seem to come. As he stood there, gazing at the Cabinet, all he could feel was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Why did he feel so empty? Why hadn’t that fulfilled him? Mending the Cabinet was a great achievement, after all, something that took a certain level of magical skill to achieve. A couple years ago, Draco would’ve been extremely proud of the whole situation. He would’ve felt immense joy in the idea of Death Eaters ruling Hogwarts with no Albus Dumbledore in sight. Now, however, Draco felt neither pride nor joy. He simply felt grey, like his world had de-saturated around him. It was a most depressing feeling, one that Draco was getting rather used to.

He continued to stare at the Cabinet in an almost transfixed state. He had been in such a hurry to understand the Cabinet, to mend it, that he had not paid any attention to the architectural details of the Cabinet. It had been made from a rich looking wood, whose texture reminded Draco of his father’s credenza desk. It was tall, about 8 feet or so, and about 4 feet wide. The carpentry was perfectly precise in every little edge and detail. With all of this in mind, however, Draco focused on the very front of the Cabinet- the door. On the door had been carved a tree, with great sprawling branches and a thick, supportive trunk. Draco couldn’t help but be mesmerised by it, for the tree almost seemed alive. In fact, as he admired the precision of the twigs and the majesty of the roots, the tree began to move. At first Draco thought it to be a trick of the light, but as he observed it further, he could not deny that the branches were bending and bowing in some sort of magical wind. It entranced him and drew him closer to the Cabinet. Without knowing what he was doing or why he was doing it, he opened the door of the Cabinet and stepped inside. He had become enthralled with it, and some strange type of excitement was coursing through his veins as he closed the door tightly behind him. All was pitch black, and the only disturbance was a house fly which had been trapped in the Cabinet. Then, the urge came to say the spell, to try the Cabinet for himself.

“Here goes,” muttered Draco. “Harmonica Nectere Passus.”

He felt his entire body jolt. It was a bit like being pressed into a pipe while traveling at the speed of light on a roller coaster. Draco now understood why Goyle felt so sick. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the landing. When he reopened them however, a large gasp left his mouth. For he was not in Borgin and Burke’s. He was in a forest, a dark one at that, alone. Trees towered above him, swishing in a dance that only they could’ve remembered. There was undergrowth all around him, and the ground was wet and soppy, as though it had just rained. He could barely see anything because the forest was so thick. As he observed further, he realised that he had never seen the place in his life. What had gone wrong? Where was he? And how on earth was he supposed to get back to Hogwarts?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :) if you feel compelled please leave a kudos and a comment.


	3. Chapter 2

It was hot. This seemed to be the only thought Draco could register as he fought his way through the thicket on the forest floor in Merlin-knows-where-he-was. If the sun hadn’t been beating down upon him, and if the humidity of the forest hadn’t surrounded him, Draco’s brain might have been whirring with theories about his strange circumstances. His first thought probably would have been Dark magic of some kind- maybe the Dark Lord was sick and tired of waiting for him to complete the task of killing Dumbledore, and had decided to curse the Cabinet. However, if Draco had thought about it, he may have realised that the magic which had pulled him had had no darkness to it; instead it had an aura of goodness. His second thought would have been in regards to his actual location. He had never seen it in his life before, he was sure of that, but for some reason that wouldn’t have frightened Draco. The heat was extremely bloody annoying, but they seemed to be friendly woods, not ones full of dread. Draco’s real worry would have been that he didn’t know how to get home should he need to. The third thought that would have entered Draco’s mind was that he would have to find food and shelter, if he was stuck there, which seemed to be the situation. The fourth thought would have been: are there people here? It might have seemed like a silly question, but it was valid all the same. Was the wood abandoned, or populated? And if people did live there, were they magical or Muggle? Draco would’ve hoped they were magical, for Muggles were dumb, stupid creatures, he knew that to be a fact because of his father’s factual argument for the case and also because he had met some over the summer, when Voldemort had set up headquarters in Malfoy Manor. Granted, he had been torturing them, but all the same, the Muggles had acted like witless animals. Draco would have scoffed at this thought. 

However, Draco neither scoffed nor thought about any of these things. He only wished to find some source of fresh water, and for the heat to lessen its hold on both him and the forest. He was panting now, struggling through patches of brambles and tripping over saplings. The thicket was sharp and prickly, poking him with its thorns and sticking him with its burrs. He drudged on and on, barely thinking coherently as the hot summer day muddled his mind. Finally, he reached an opening in the woods! Draco felt relieved to finally be out of the overgrown mess, but what he saw in front of him did not interest him much more. He seemed to be on the edge of the ocean, although it was not like any beach he had ever seen in England. Instead, the warm, yellow sands and the turquoise blue water reminded him of the beaches in Italy that bordered the Mediterranean Sea. Although it had been many years, Draco vividly remembered his holiday to Italy with his parents. It should have been a happy memory, but all it made him think of was his father wasting away in Azkaban and his mother alone and presumably defenseless. Suddenly, he snapped back into full focus. The heavy, sweet exhaustion of the forest melted away completely, and Draco finally began to think. He finally thought through all of the things that were listed before, wondering where he was and why he had gotten there. For some reason, however, Draco did not panic. He knew that it had been magic which had pulled him into this wilderness, not some strange supernatural force, or some glitch in the dimension. In some ways, he was grateful to be in a different place, wherever that place was, because there was no trace of the Dark Lord’s wizened hand in the landscape around him. As he continued to gaze at the nature around him, he realised that for the first time in months, he felt safe. This was quite astonishing if you thought about it, for he was not only separated from his home and family, but he was alone and had no idea where he was. Draco supposed that was just the spirit the Dark Lord encouraged in his followers: fear. However, with the imminent threat of the snake-like wizard seemingly gone (Draco didn’t know how he knew that You-Know-Who couldn’t reach him; he just knew), Draco finally took a deep breath. He felt an enormous weight lift off of his chest, before it immediately settled in again, although less prominent this time. For the forest, beach, and sea around him not only felt safe, as though no harm could come to him, but they also felt sad. An almost wistful, ancient aura surrounded him, and the waves broke on the shore in a perfect rhythm, like they had learned it long ago, when the earth was still young and fresh. The air was strangely quiet too, for no birds chirped and no insects buzzed. Yet, the place wasn’t dead. It was simply... what was it exactly? Asleep, perhaps. 

Draco sat down on a small boulder and began to form a plan. First, he would explore the area. He knew that if he found a stream, he might be able to follow it inland, away from the heat of the sun and the salt of the sea. Once he had found a stream and followed it inland, he would look for a place to shelter for the night. Then, once morning came (presuming that this place was on the same time frame as Hogwarts), he would search for a town, or at least someone who could tell him what was going on. With this in mind, Draco grasped his wand in hand and began walking down the beach.

Before long, he decided that the sand was his infernal enemy. Not only was it abrasive, gritty, and uncomfortable when it found its way into his shoe, but it was also slightly mucky, and it made walking a drag. He wished he were skilled enough in Apparition, but even then, he wouldn’t know where to Apparate to. Despite his well-made plan, Draco was in a total state of annoyance and discomfort. He hated the hot sun, the sticky sand, and the feeling of dread stuck in his throat- that he didn’t know where he was or how to get home. He walked, and walked, and walked. The shoreline seemed to lead to nowhere. Then, finally, he saw it! A gurgling, clear stream in the distance emptying into the sea! Draco felt an immense sense of relief settle over him. As he skipped across the beach toward the small river, he nearly let out a small laugh. This was new. Draco hadn’t laughed in weeks, let alone cracked a smile just because he could, just because he was happy. But somehow, being away from his life in a place he had never seen before because of a strange magical Cabinet... he felt a sense of adventure and exhilaration. And strangely, part of him hoped that it would last. 

He reached the stream. It was a bright, rushing thing, glimmering in the sunlight above him. This was heaven on Earth: fresh water and a chance to cool off. He knelt beside it and dipped his cupped hands into the cool water, splashing his face. After doing this, he stood up and gazed thoughtfully into the forest. It seemed as though he could follow the stream inland like he had planned, for the forest did not seem as thick as it had been when he had arrived there, wherever there was. Feeling much better after cooling off, he began walking along the bank of the stream. It was quite a quiet forest, just like the beach before it. Draco did not pay much attention to this however, for the going quickly became difficult. The brambles had returned in the masses, and various little stumps and roots threatened to send Draco tumbling helplessly to the ground. He avoided the pitfalls with careful agility, admiring the red sumacs and mossy branches around him. Draco marched on, losing his focus as he withdrew into his own mind. Suddenly, Draco’s toe slammed up against something hard and unmoving! With a little yelp, he face planted directly into... a hard, stony surface? Draco groaned, for his landing had not been particularly soft by any means, but he soon forgot his pain as he rolled over onto his back to see a crumbling stone tower just meters away from him. Bewildered, he sat up, checking to make sure that his wand was still on his person before rising to his feet. The tower was (or had been) beautiful. Draco could tell that master architects had built the structure, and as he looked around at his surroundings, he noticed that it was not the only one. Broken down walls and towers stood all around him. Draco was in a ruin. 

It all made sense now, why the forest and the beach were quiet, lifeless places, for it didn’t take much brain power to deduce that no one had lived in this place for years. Draco didn’t know whether he should be annoyed with this fact, or pleased. For one thing, maybe he was stuck here forever, which would mean that he could become a hermit or something of the sort and live a stress-free life away from Hogwarts and the Death Eaters. For another thing, no people meant no information, and Draco desperately wanted to know where he was. He began to walk around the ruin, which was obviously a castle at one point, and observed the Ionian columns, which had once been tall, white, and ornate. Now, they were broken and covered in lichen, the forest having overtaken them. As he observed the ruin, he heard something. It was soft, barely there, yet Draco heard it all the same. It was a voice, someone speaking in a hushed tone. 

“He hasn’t seen us yet,” it said. 

The voice belonged to a female, and Draco assumed that she was talking about him. Not knowing who the girl was or if she meant him harm, he drew out his wand and proceeded cautiously towards the voice.

“Who’s there?” Draco shouted across the castle. 

“I think he heard you, Su,” a male voice whispered, barely there. 

“Who’s there?” he repeated, holding out his wand. “I have my wand, and I’m not afraid to use it!”

Draco tried to catch sight of whoever was in the wood with him, but to no avail. Whoever was there had blended perfectly into the trees, and he knew that he was in a strange magical place with no defence but his wand. He circled around with sharp and jerky motions, when suddenly, a young girl emerged from the bush. He startled and turned towards her, keeping his wand up. 

“Hello?” The girl asked in a sweet, posh voice. “You can put the stick down. We aren’t going to hurt you.”

Draco was not encouraged by this statement. The girl couldn’t be more than twelve years old for one thing, and for another, she had called his wand a stick. That meant that she wasn’t magical. His dismay was disrupted by three other people walking out from the forest, two boys and another girl. Draco immediately noticed that they were all wearing school clothes as well, and promptly decided for sure that they were all Muggle. 

“Well, that all depends, Lu,” the eldest boy said, striding up toward Draco. 

“Yes, but he’s clearly confused and doesn’t know what’s happened to him. It’s not like other worlds pop up daily,” the young girl called Lu held her chin high as she looked at the boy. 

Draco decided that it was time for him to step into the conversation. 

“I’d really rather you not talk about me like I’m not here, thank you very much,” he said spitefully. 

“Oh! Of course,” said the eldest girl now. “Hadn’t we better introduce ourselves? We’re the Pevensies. That’s Peter, he’s the eldest, and Lucy, she’s the youngest. My name is Susan.” 

“I’m Edmund,” said the other boy presently. 

“My name is Malfoy, I mean Draco. Draco Malfoy,” Draco stuttered. 

“Nice to meet you. I assume you’re lost,” said Peter, “and don’t know where you are.”

Draco raised an eyebrow skeptically. “How do you know that?” 

“Well, who walks around aimlessly in the middle of a tangled forest if they aren’t lost?” 

“Apparently, yourselves. You lot don’t seem to be very lost,” Draco retorted. 

“No. But there is another thing. You’re wearing school clothes. Which means you’re definitely not from Narnia- which is where we are, by the way- and instead must have come through some sort of door to get here,” Lucy remarked. 

This piqued Draco’s interest. What on earth could Narnia be? He asked the four siblings. 

“Well, it’s like... another world. A different universe. It’s like in a fantasy book, with magic and centaurs and witches. I’m sure you’ve read one before,” Lucy explained. 

‘I live in one’, Draco thought privately. 

“And people from Earth can get here by magic sometimes. It’s shocking for someone who’s never experienced it before, and I shouldn’t wonder if you came here the same way we did this time, almost like being pulled, or if you simply walked through a door.”

Draco mulled over all of this in silence for a few moments. The existence of another world didn’t surprise him, or that you could get there by magic. But how and why had four such obviously Muggle children been able to come to such a place? And lastly, what on earth had he mucked up in his recitation of the spell for the Vanishing Cabinet to have brought him into this country, which Lucy had called Narnia? He presently turned to Peter. 

“How can I know to trust you?” 

Peter smiled, almost wistfully. “I don’t really think you can know. You can either believe us, or not.” 

Draco cocked an eyebrow, because if that wasn’t the most Dumbledore-like inspirational shit he’d ever heard. However, the kid had a point. How were they supposed to prove it to him? His own experience said enough. Draco nodded and averted his eyes from Peter. Then, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. The brown-haired boy who had introduced himself as Edmund was walking forward, for he had been standing behind his three siblings and hadn’t said much of anything. He spoke. 

“Would you... like to stay with us? You don’t want to be alone here when night falls, and we could tell you more about Narnia. We found an apple orchard and a well in the ruin, and Pete and I can build a fire. Does that sound good to you?” Edmund offered. 

And, what was Draco supposed to say in response to that? No thank you, you’re obviously Muggles who I have no desire to associate with since I am of pure magical blood? That would never do. It also struck him that Edmund was right. No matter what he liked to believe about their lack of magic, the Pevensies were familiar with Narnia and could protect him and tell him more about it when night fell. He was the dependent one, and he couldn’t say no. 

“All right. I’m in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you find any spelling or grammatical errors, please do not hesitate to let me know so that I can fix them. Thanks for reading :)


	4. Chapter 3

The five kids walked back into the ruin, where they found what looked to be the remains of a Great Hall. The Pevensies continued to converse as they went along. 

“What I still can’t work out, Lucy, is how there could be ruins like these in Narnia. We should’ve known about them,” Peter was mentioning as he strode up and down the chipped stone. 

“Yes, but... this has to be Narnia. I can tell by the feel of the place. And this Great Hall must’ve been much like the Great Hall we feasted in at Cair Paravel,” she replied.

“Maybe so, Lucy. I’m going to go get us some water. I saw a well over there,” Susan said, splitting away from them. 

Peter led the rest of them over to one of the few remaining walls that could be considered sturdy. It was covered in trailing vines and leaves, the greens and browns and whites blending together in what Draco considered a picturesque combination. 

“I suppose we should get started on the fire if we’re going to stay the night here. Then tomorrow morning we can make a plan,” Edmund suggested to Peter presently. 

“What do you mean, a plan?” Draco interrupted. “Like, how we’re going to get home?” 

Peter and Edmund looked at each other, and then at him, with a sense of pity. Draco resented this. He wasn’t a helpless little child, for Salazar’s sake!

“I’m afraid Narnia doesn’t work like that,” Edmund tried to explain gently. 

Draco scoffed. “Didn’t I just hear you say you weren’t even sure if this was Narnia?” 

“Yes, but...” 

Draco was quickly coming to the realization that he could no longer be enchanted by the forest and make the best of his situation. 

“Why should I even listen to you if you aren’t even sure where we are? Stupid Muggles...” he yelled, trailing off at the end. 

“Hey, hey, settle down now. I’m sure this is all very confusing to you,” Lucy was reaching out to him now, and Draco pulled away with a scowl. “The only reason we’re not sure is because in all our experiences in Narnia, we’ve never seen a landscape, or ruins, like this. We don’t remember them. But we don’t have any explanation, and I’m very sorry that you’re not at school right now, I really am, but you’ll just have to listen to us, because we have some experience with these sorts of things, now, see?” 

He did not appreciate being told what to do by a child. However, Draco sighed in submission for what he felt was the millionth time that day. He didn’t have any choice. As if that was a new experience for him. 

“Peter?” said Susan presently, as she walked into their little camp. The other four turned to look at her. Her face had gone quite pale, and she seemed to be holding something small in her right hand. 

“What is it, Su?” he asked. 

“It’s a chess piece. Exactly like the set we had in Cair Paravel. Solid gold, the ruby eyes, everything,” she said, and Draco thought she might cry. 

She handed it to Edmund, and Draco could see the glint of the metal and the shimmer of the gem, in the figure of what appeared to be a centaur. 

Lucy peered around them, even in the beginnings of dusk, at the ruins. A look of wonder appeared on her face, a realization almost. 

“Look closer at the Dias. Don’t you see? Imagine walls, and columns there. And a glass roof!”

Draco watched as Peter tilted his head upwards, almost in a prideful way. 

“Cair Paravel,” he said now. 

“Look here,” Susan said presently. “If this really is Cair Paravel, then the treasure chamber ought to be right behind us.”

Draco was truly confused by all of this Cair Paravel discourse. He’d gotten the impression that this family of weirdly perceptive children had been here before, obviously, but he couldn’t work out the fact that they appeared to recognize a ruin that had once been a castle. It was probably mental illness. 

Presently, Edmund spoke. “Well, then the door would be right behind all of those vines.” 

“Let’s clear them!” Peter exclaimed.

Before he could even get a word in to ask what in the name of all things holy this was about, the Pevensies were all tearing away at the crawling leaves that covered the wall behind them. Sure enough, there was a door. Peter kicked through the rotten wood and reached inside to unlock the latch. 

“Does anyone have any matches?” he asked, holding a stick in his right hand.

“No, but I do have the electric torch that Dad got me for my 14th birthday!” Edmund replied, reaching inside his satchel. 

“That’s perfect!” Peter said. 

At this point, Draco was truly annoyed. They were so caught up in themselves, they had forgotten that he was a person with questions that needed answering! 

“Okay, okay, okay. Have you all just forgotten that I exist? What is Cair Paravel? Why do you recognize it? Why are you going into a treasure chamber?” Draco ranted. 

Edmund looked down apologetically. 

“Sorry, Draco. I guess we kind of forgot that you’re new to Narnia. In the future,-“

But Peter interrupted his brother.

“We were kings and queens once,” he declared, a wistful, proud look in his eye. “Narnian royalty. I am the High King.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you feel like it, please leave a kudos and/or a comment. They are very appreciated :)


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